As circumstances, which I have yet to relate, have prevented my return
to the Shoshones, and I shall have no more to say of their movements in
these pages, I would fain pay them a just tribute before I continue my
narrative. I wish the reader to perceive how much higher the Western
Indians are in the scale of humanity than the tribes of the East, so
well described be Cooper and other American writers. There is a
chivalrous spirit in these rangers of the western prairies not to be
exceeded in history or modern times.
The four tribes of Shoshones, Arrapahoes, Comanches, and Apaches never
attempt, like the Dacotah and Algonquin, and other tribes of the East,
to surprise an enemy; they take his scalp, it is true, but they take it
in the broad day; neither will they ever murder the squaws, children,
and old men, who may be left unprotected when the war-parties are out.
In fact, they are honourable and noble foes, sincere and trustworthy
friends. In many points they have the uses of ancient chivalry among
them, so much so as to induce me to surmise that they may have brought
them over with them when they first took possession of the territory.
Every warrior has his nephew, who is selected as his page: he performs
the duty of a squire, in ancient knight errantry, takes charge of his
horse, arms, and accoutrements; and he remains in this office until he
is old enough to gain his own spurs. Hawking is also a favourite
amusement, and the chiefs ride out with the falcon, or small eagle, on
their wrist or shoulder.
Even in their warfare, you often may imagine that you were among the
knights of ancient days. An Arrapahoe and a Shoshone warrior armed with
a buckler and their long lances, will single out and challenge each
other; they run a tilt, and as each has warded off the blow, and passed
unhurt, they will courteously turn back and salute each other, as an
acknowledgment of their enemy's bravery and skill. When these challenges
take place, or indeed in any single combat without challenge, none of
these Indians will take advantage of possessing a superior weapon. If
one has a rifle and knows that his opponent has not, he will throw his
rifle down, and only use the same weapon as his adversary.
I will now relate some few traits of character, which will prove the
nobility of these Indians[18].
[Footnote 18: There is every prospect of these north-western tribes
remaining in their present primitive state, indeed of their gradual
improvement, for nothing can induce them to touch spirits. They know
that the eastern Indians have been debased and conquered by the use of
them, and consider an offer of a dram from an American trader as an
indirect attempt upon their life and honour.]
Every year during the season dedicated to the performing of the
religious ceremonies, premiums are given by the holy men and elders of
the tribe to those among the young men who have the most distinguished
themselves. The best warrior receives a feather of the black eagle; the
most successful hunter obtains a robe of buffalo-skin, painted inside,
and representing some of his most daring exploits; the most virtuous has
for his share a coronet made either of gold or silver; and these
premiums are suspended in their wigwams, as marks of honour, and handed
down to their posterity. In fact, they become a kind of _écusson_, which
ennobles a family.
Once during the distribution of these much-coveted prizes, a young man
of twenty-two was called by the chiefs to receive the premium of virtue.
The Indian advanced towards his chiefs, when an elder of the tribe
rising, addressed the whole audience. He pointed the young man out, as
one whose example should be followed, and recorded, among many other
praiseworthy actions, that three squaws, with many children, having been
reduced to misery by the death of their husbands in the last war against
the Crows, this young man, although the deceased were the greatest foes
of his family, undertook to provide for their widows and children till
the boys, grown up, would be able to provide for themselves and their
mothers. Since that time, he had given them the produce of his chase,
reserving to himself nothing but what was strictly necessary to sustain
the wants of nature. This was a noble and virtuous act, one that pleased
the Manitou. It was an example which all the Shoshones should follow.
The young man bowed, and as the venerable chief was stooping to put the
coronet upon his head, he started back and, to the astonishment of all,
refused the premium.
"Chiefs, warriors, elders of the Shoshones, pardon me! You know the good
which I have done, but you know not in what I have erred. My first
feeling was to receive the coronet, and conceal what wrong I had done;
but a voice in my heart forbids my taking what others have perchance
better deserved.
"Hear me, Shoshones! the truth must be told; hear my shame! One day, I
was hungry; it was in the great prairies. I had killed no game, and I
was afraid to return among our young men with empty hands. I remained
four days hunting, and still I saw neither buffaloes nor bears. At last,
I perceived the tent of an Arrapahoe. I went in; there was no one there,
and it was full of well-cured meat. I had not eaten for five days; I was
hungry, and I became a thief, I took away a large piece, and ran away
like a cowardly wolf. I have said: the prize cannot be mine."
A murmur ran through the assembly, and the chiefs, holy men, and elders
consulted together. At last, the ancient chief advanced once more
towards the young man, and took his two hands between his own. "My son,"
he said, "good, noble, and brave; thy acknowledgment of thy fault and
self-denial in such a moment make thee as pure as a good spirit in the
eyes-of the great Manitou. Evil, when confessed and repented of, is
forgotten; bend thy head, my son, and let me crown thee. The premium is
twice deserved and twice due."
A Shoshone warrior possessed a beautiful mare; no horse in the prairie
could outspeed her, and in the buffalo or bear hunt she would enjoy the
sport as much as her master, and run alongside the huge beast with great
courage and spirit. Many propositions were made to the warrior to sell
or exchange the animal, but he would not hear of it. The dumb brute was
his friend, his sole companion; they had both shared the dangers of
battle and the privations of prairie travelling; why should he part with
her? The fame of that mare extended so far, that in a trip he made to
San Francisco, several Mexicans offered him large sums of money;
nothing, however, could shake him in his resolution. In those countries,
though horses will often be purchased at the low price of one dollar, it
often happens that a steed, well known as a good hunter or a rapid
pacer, will bring sums equal to those paid in England for a fine
racehorse.
One of the Mexicans, a wild young man, resolved to obtain the mare,
whether or no. One evening, when the Indian was returning from some
neighbouring plantation, the Mexican laid down in some bushes at a short
distance from the road, and moaned as if in the greatest pain. The good
and kind-hearted Indian having reached the spot, heard his cries of
distress, dismounted from his mare, and offered any assistance: it was
nearly dark, and although he knew the sufferer to be a Pale-face, yet he
could not distinguish his features. The Mexican begged for a drop of
water, and the Indian dashed into a neighbouring thicket to procure it
for him. As soon as the Indian was sufficiently distant, the Mexican
vaulted upon the mare, and apostrophized the Indian:--
"You fool of a Red-skin, not cunning enough for a Mexican: you refused
my gold; now I have the mare for nothing, and I will make the trappers
laugh when I tell them how easily I have outwitted a Shoshone."
The Indian looked at the Mexican for a few moments in silence, for his
heart was big, and the shameful treachery wounded him to the very core.
At last, he spoke:--
"Pale-face," said he, "for the sake of others, I may not kill thee. Keep
the mare, since thou art dishonest enough to steal the only property of
a poor man; keep her, but never say a work how thou earnest by her, lest
hereafter a Shoshone, having learned distrust, should not hearken to the
voice of grief and woe. Away, away with her! let me never see her again,
or in an evil hour the desire of vengeance may make a bad man of me."
The Mexican was wild, inconsiderate, and not over-scrupulous, but not
without feeling: he dismounted from the horse, and putting the bridle in
the hand of the Shoshone, "Brother," said he, "I have done wrong, pardon
me! from an Indian I learn virtue, and for the future, when I would
commit any deed of injustice, I will think of thee."
Two Apaches loved the same girl; one was a great chief, the other a
young warrior, who had entered the war-path but a short time. Of course,
the parents of the young girl rejected the warriors suit, as soon as the
chief proposed himself. Time passed, and the young man, broken-hearted,
left all the martial exercises, in which he had excelled. He sought
solitude, starting early in the morning from the wigwam, and returning
but late in the night, when the fires were out. The very day on which he
was to lead the young girl to his lodge, the chief went bear-hunting
among the hills of the neighbourhood. Meeting with a grizzly bear, he
fired at him: but at the moment he pulled the trigger his foot slipped,
and he fell down, only wounding the fierce animal, which now, smarting
and infuriated with pain, rushed upon him.
The chief had been hurt in his fall, he was incapable of defence, and
knew that he was lost. He shut his eyes, and waited for his death-blow,
when the report of a rifle and the springing of the bear in the agonies
of death made him once more open his eyes; he started upon his feet,
there lay the huge monster, and near him stood the young warrior who
timely rescued him.
The chief recognized his rival, and his gratitude overpowering all other
feelings, he took the warrior by the hand, and grasped it firmly.
"Brother," he said, "thou hast saved my life at a time when It was
sweet, more so than usual. Let us be brothers."
The young man's breast heaved with contending passions; but he, too, was
a noble fellow.
"Chief," answered he, "when I saw the bear rushing upon thee, I thought
It was the Manitou who had taken compassion on my sufferings, my heart
for an instant felt light and happy; but as death was near thee, very
near, the Good Spirit whispered his wishes, and I have saved thee for
happiness. It is I who must die! I am nothing, have no friends, no one
to care for me, to love me, to make pleasant in the lodge the dull hours
of night. Chief, farewell!"
He was going, but the chief grasped him firmly by the arm,--
"Where dost thou wish to go? Dost thou know the love of a brother? Didst
thou ever dream of one? I have said we must be brothers to each other.
Come to the wigwam."
They returned to the village in silence, and when they arrived before
the door of the council lodge, the chief summoned everybody to hear what
he had to communicate, and ordered the parents to bring the young girl.
"Flower of the magnolia," said he, taking her by the hand, "wilt thou
love me less as a brother than as a husband? Speak! Whisper thy thought
to me! Didst thou ever dream of another voice than mine, a younger one,
breathing of love and despair?"
Then leading the girl to where the young warrior stood,--
"Brother," said he, "take thy wife and my sister."
Turning towards the elders, the chief extended his right arm, so as to
invite general attention.
"I have called you," said he, "that an act of justice may be performed.
Hear my words:--
"A young antelope loved a lily, standing under the shade of a sycamore,
by the side of a cool stream. Dally he came to watch it as it grew
whiter and more beautiful. He loved it very much, till one day a large
bull came and picked up the lily. Was it good? No! The poor antelope
fled towards the mountains, never wishing to return any more under the
cool shade of the sycamore. One day he met the bull down, and about to
be killed by a big bear. He saved him. He heard only the whisper of his
heart. He saved the bull, although the bull had taken away the pretty
lily from where it stood, by the cool stream. It was good, it was well!
The bull said to the antelope, 'We shall be brothers, in joy and in
sorrow!' and the antelope said there could be no joy for him since the
lily was gone. The bull considered. He thought that a brother ought to
make great sacrifices for a brother, and he said to the antelope,
'Behold, there is the lily, take it before it droops away. Wear it in
thy bosom and be happy.' Chiefs, sages, and warriors, I am the bull:
behold my brother the antelope. I have given unto him the flower of the
magnolia. She is the lily that grew by the side of the stream, and under
the sycamore. I have done well, I have done much, yet not enough for a
great chief, not enough for a brother, not enough for justice! Sages,
warriors, hear me all. The Flower of the Magnolia can lie but upon the
bosom of a chief. My brother must become a chief. He is a chief, for I
divide with him the power I possess: my wealth, my lodge, are his own;
my horses, my mules, my furs, and all! A chief has but one life, and it
is a great gift that cannot be paid too highly. You have heard my words.
I have said!"
This sounds very much like a romance, but it is an Apache story, related
of one of their great chiefs, during one of their evening encampments.
An Apache having, in a moment of passion, accidentally killed one of the
tribe, hastened to the chiefs to deliver himself up to justice. On his
way he was met by the brother of his victim, upon whom, according to
Indian laws, fell the duty of revenge and retaliation. They were
friends, and shook hands together.
"Yet I must kill thee, friend," said the brother.
"Thou wilt!" answered the murderer, "it is thy duty; but wilt thou not
remember the dangers we have passed together, and provide and console
those I leave behind in my lodge?"
"I will," answered the brother. "Thy wife shall be my sister during her
widowhood; thy children will never want game, until they can themselves
strike the bounding deer."
The two Indians continued their way in silence, till at once the brother
of the murdered one stopped.
"We shall soon reach the chiefs," said he; "I to revenge a brother's
death, thou to quit for ever thy tribe and thy children, Hast thou a
wish? Think, whisper!"
The murderer stood irresolute; his glance furtively took the direction
of his lodge. The brother continued,--
"Go to thy lodge. I shall wait for thee till the setting of the sun,
before the council door. Go! thy tongue is silent, but I know the wish
of thy heart. Go!"
Such traits are common in Indian life. Distrust exists not among the
children of the wilderness, until generated by the conduct of white men.
These stories, and thousand others, all exemplifying the triumph of
virtue and honour over baseness and vice, are every day narrated by the
elders, in presence of the young men and children. The evening
encampment is a great school of morals, where the red-skin philosopher
embodies in his tales the sacred precepts of virtue. A traveller, could
he understand what was said, as he viewed the scene, might fancy some of
the sages of ancient Greece inculcating to their disciples those
precepts of wisdom which have transmitted their name down to us bright
and glorious, through more than twenty centuries.
I have stated that the holy men among the Indians, that is to say, the
keepers of the sacred lodges, keep the records of the great deeds
performed in the tribe; but a tribe will generally boast more of the
great virtues of one of its men than of the daring of its bravest
warriors. "A virtuous man," they say, "has the ear of the Manitou, he
can tell him the sufferings of Indian nature, and ask him to
soothe them."
Even the Mexicans, who, of all men, have had most to suffer, and suffer
daily from the Apaches[19], cannot but do them the justice they so well
deserve. The road betwixt Chihuahua and Santa Fé is almost entirely
deserted, so much are the Apaches dreaded; yet they are not hated by the
Mexicans half as much as the Texans or the Americans. The Apaches are
constantly at war with the Mexicans, it is true; but never have they
committed any of those cowardly atrocities which have disgraced every
page of Texan history. With the Apaches there are no murders in cold
blood, no abuse of the prisoners. A captive knows that he will either
suffer death or be adopted in the tribe; but he has never to fear the
slow fire and the excruciating torture so generally employed by the
Indians in the United States territories.
[Footnote 19: What I here say of the Apaches applies to the whole
Shoshone race.]
Their generosity is unbounded; and by the treatment I received at their
hands the reader may form an idea of that brave people. They will never
hurt a stranger coming to them. A green bough in his hand is a token of
peace. For him they will spread the best blankets the wigwam can afford;
they will studiously attend to his wants, smoke with him the calumet of
peace, and when he goes away, whatever he may desire from among the
disposable wealth of the tribe, if he asks for it, it is given.
Gabriel was once attacked near Santa Fé, and robbed of his baggage, by
some honest Yankee traders. He fell in with a party of Apaches, to whom
he related the circumstance. They gave him some blankets, and left him
with their young men at the hunting-lodges they had erected. The next
day they returned with several Yankee captives, all well tied, to
prevent any possibility of escape. These were the thieves; and what they
had taken of Gabriel was, of course, restored to him, one of the Indians
saying, that the Yankees, having blackened and soiled the country by
theft, should receive the punishment of dogs, and as it was beneath an
Apache to strike them, cords were given to them, with orders that they
should chastise each other for their rascality. The blackguards were
obliged to submit, and the dread of being scalped was too strong upon
them to allow them to refuse. At first they did not seem to hurt each
other much; but one or two of them, smarting under the lash, returned
the blows in good earnest, and then they all got angry, and beat each
other so unmercifully that, in a few minutes, they were scarcely able to
move. Nothing could exceed the ludicrous picture which Gabriel would
draw out of this little event.
There is one circumstance which will form a particular datum in the
history of the Western wild tribes,--I mean the terrible visitation of
the small-pox. The Apaches, Comanches, the Shoshones, and Arrapahoes are
so clean and so very nice in the arrangement of their domestic comforts,
that they suffered very little, or not at all; at least, I do not
remember a single case which brought death in these tribes; indeed, as I
have before mentioned, the Shoshones vaccinate.
But such was not the case with the Club Indians of the Colorado of the
West, with the Crows, the Flat-heads, the Umbiquas, and the Black-feet.
These last suffered a great deal more than any people in the world ever
suffered from any plague or pestilence. To be sure, the Mandans had been
entirely swept from the surface of the earth; but they were few, while
the Black-feet were undoubtedly the most numerous and powerful tribe in
the neighbourhood of the mountains. Their war-parties ranged the country
from the northern English posts on the Slave Lake down south to the very
borders of the Shoshones, and many among them had taken scalps of the
Osages, near the Mississippi, and even of the great Pawnees. Between the
Red River and the Platte they had once one hundred villages, thousands
and thousands of horses. They numbered more than six thousand warriors.
Their name had become a by-word of terror on the northern continent,
from shore to shore, and little children in the eastern states, who knew
not the name of the tribes two miles from their dwellings, had learned
to dread even the name of a Black-foot. Now the tribe has been reduced
to comparative insignificancy by this dreadful scourge. They died by
thousands; whole towns and villages were destroyed; and even now, the
trapper, coming from the mountains, will often come across numberless
lodges in ruins, and the blanched skeletons of uncounted and unburied
Indians. They lost ten thousand individuals in less than three weeks.
Many tribes but little known suffered pretty much in the same ratio. The
Club Indians I have mentioned, numbering four thousand before the
pestilence, are now reduced to thirty or forty Individuals; and some
Apaches related to me that happening at that time to along the shores of
the Colorado, they met the poor fellows dying by hundreds on the very
edge of the water, where they had dragged themselves to quench their
burning thirst, there not being among them one healthy or strong enough
to help and succour the others. The Navahoes, living in the
neighbourhood of the Club Indians, have entirely disappeared; and,
though late travellers have mentioned them in their works, there is not
one of them living now.
Mr. Farnham mentions them In his "Tour on the Mountains"; but he must
have been mistaken, confounding one tribe with another, or perhaps
deceived by the ignorance of the trappers; for that tribe occupied a
range of country entirely out of his track, and never travelled by
American traders or trappers. Mr. Farnham could not have been in their
neighbourhood by at least six hundred miles.
The villages formerly occupied by the Navahoes are deserted, though many
of their lodges still stand; but they serve only to shelter numerous
tribes of dogs, which, having increased wonderfully since there has been
no one to kill and eat them, have become the lords of vast districts,
where they hunt in packs. So numerous and so fierce have they grown,
that the neighbouring tribes feel great unwillingness to extend their
range to where they may fall in with these canine hunters.
This disease, which has spread north as far as the Ohakallagans, on the
borders of the Pacific Ocean, north of Fort Vancouver, has also extended
its ravages to the western declivity of the Arrahuac, down to 30° north
lat., where fifty nations that had a name are now forgotten, the
traveller, perchance, only reminded that they existed when he falls in
with heaps of unburied bones.
How the Black-feet caught the infection it is difficult to say, as their
immediate neighbours in the east escaped; but the sites of their
villages were well calculated to render the disease more general and
terrible; their settlements being generally built in some recess, deep
in the heart of the mountains, or in valleys surrounded by lofty hills,
which prevent all circulation of the air; and it is easy to understand
that the atmosphere, once becoming impregnated with the effluvia, and
having no issue, must have been deadly.
On the contrary, the Shoshones, the Apaches, and the Arrapahoes, have
the generality of their villages built along the shores of deep and
broad rivers. Inhabiting a warm clime, cleanness, first a necessity, has
become a second nature. The hides and skins are never dried in the
immediate vicinity of their lodges, but at a great distance, where the
effluvia can hurt no one. The interior of their lodges is dry, and
always covered with a coat of hard white clay, a good precaution against
insects and reptiles, the contrast of colour immediately betraying their
presence. Besides which, having always a plentiful supply of food, they
are temperate in their habits, and are never guilty of excess; while the
Crows, Black-feet, and Clubs, having often to suffer hunger for days,
nay, weeks together, will, when they have an opportunity, eat to
repletion, and their stomachs being always in a disordered state (the
principal and physical cause of their fierceness and ferocity), it is
no wonder that they fell victims, with such predispositions to disease.
It will require many generations to recover the number of Indians which
perished in that year; and, as I have said, as long as they live, it
will form an epoch or era to which they will for centuries refer.